


Don't ever let me go

by FancifulRivers



Series: faded morning glories and hopes for a better future [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Disabled Character, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 16:10:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5462828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancifulRivers/pseuds/FancifulRivers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The barrier is gone. Everyone can return, to live above in the humans' world.</p><p>Three don't want to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't ever let me go

**Author's Note:**

> I do not and never will own Undertale.
> 
> Sequel to "Holding all your hope." 
> 
> This is what happens when I binge-read feralphoenix's work and then end up with too many Chara feels that combine with too many Frisk and Asriel feels, too. Can't they have at least a semi-happy ending?

The Ruins feel more like home than anything ever has. You used to be surprised by that. You're not anymore. There's warmth here, spilling through your bones like the flicker of a lit candle, there's cinnamon butterscotch pie that melts on your tongue and crumbles on your fingertips. There's family- And that's what you've always wanted. It's why you climbed the mountain in the first place, although you didn't know that's what you would find. You thought you'd find peace, somewhere beyond death, but you've found it here, and you didn't even have to die first.

You still don't know how you brought Asriel back. Chara doesn't know either. They laugh about it, but you can see the emotions brimming in their eyes. You watched them hug when Flowey first spilled into a furry goat-like child in a green-and-yellow-striped sweater, and you never knew Chara's scarred hands could clutch another being so tightly. You would have been jealous if Asriel hadn't gestured you close and hugged you, too. Three-way hugs are rare, even now, but they're all the more precious because of it.

But now everyone wants to spill out of the mountain, wants to find freedom and happiness and sunshine and employment and schools- everything the humans have, up there. And you don't. You have nothing.

It's morning and you wake up curled into the center of your bed, looking over to see Chara and Asriel still sleeping, tangled up together in Asriel's bed, the blankets kicked off to the side. It doesn't hurt to see them together like you thought it would at some point. Maybe because they've spent so long apart.

Still, you kick off the sheets silently, get dressed in your old clothes, because you can't turn yourself into a matching triplet, the green-and-yellow look wrong on you, out of place. Toriel doesn't understand it, but she helps you make blue-and-pink sweaters instead, helping you learn to knit for yourself. Sometimes you knit with Chara, and it's the most peaceful feeling you've ever had, even punctuated by their resentful mutters at how clumsy their fingers are on the needles now.

There is bustle outside already, monsters getting ready to take their place in the world above, and your shoulders hunch inward belligerently before you can stop them. There's a whole vista of possibilities up there for everyone else. Why can't there be that for you? 

You wander into the garden, trailing your trusty stick behind you, tip digging into the dirt. You know that the Dreemurrs would be more than happy to keep you. Either Toriel or Asgore. Chara and Asriel love you, and you know that, too. But they all think that you've got something up there to go back to and you don't want to admit that you don't. 

You plop down into a patch of golden flowers, remembering when you first fell down, the panicked heaves for breath as you flailed, weightless in that heart-stopping rush. You thought you were going to die. You still don't know how you feel about the fact you didn't. You don't know when you start crying, but when you realize, you don't know how to stop.

* * *

 

You know that Frisk is already gone before you even open your eyes. Asriel's ear tickles your nose and you scrunch it up, trying not to sneeze. He snuffles a little in his sleep and you shove him over against the wall, rolling out of bed. Pain stabs through your back and lances through your ankles. It figures, you think, trying to ignore the creaks in your wrists as you shake them out. It figures that you are brought back to life, and yet your old demons will forever haunt you.

"Chara?" Asriel asks sleepily beside you. He's starting to outgrow his pajamas, but it just makes him look that much more desperately young.

"Go back to sleep," you offer over your shoulder as your feet slide along the floor, searching for your shoes.

"No," he says, and you can tell he's waking up properly.

"Fine, then help me find Frisk," you tell him instead. Their bed is rumpled and you don't think it's been that long since they woke up.

"They are probably in the garden again," Asriel says, yawning as he sits up. He rests his nose on the back of your neck for just a moment. If it was anyone else, you'd stiffen and lean away, but since it's him, you only sigh and relax into it. 

"All the more reason to find them," you say, and your mouth wells with bitterness for one sharp second. Asriel pauses.

"All right."

You're not allowed your knife anymore, and you miss its comforting weight in your hand, the heft of it sturdy and all too real, grounding you. Maybe it's not the best way to cope, but it's  _a_  way, and you can't see what's wrong with that. The world is not fixed with pie and chocolate and paw pads beneath your fingertips. Sometimes you wish it was.

Asriel is ready faster than normal, and you both tiptoe out into the hallway. Toriel and Asgore are up- you can hear them talking- but you slip past anyway. They wouldn't stop you, but it's hard to break the quick dart of fear that ices your spine when either of them looks the slightest bit angry. There's so much churning around in your head, now that you've been given a new chance at life, and you don't know how to deal with it all. You can still remember how it feels to die.

Hand-in-paw, you wander down. Frisk is there, all right, sitting hunched over against a wall, surrounded by golden flowers. The fragile slant of their shoulders keep shaking and you realize they're crying. You hesitate- if there's one thing you are terrible at, it's dealing with tears- but Asriel rushes past you anyway, tugging you along, and you follow as he falls to his knees beside Frisk.

"Hey," he says gently, extending a hand just a bit, so Frisk can see him out of the corner of their eye, should they choose to look up. "You all right?"

Frisk shakes their head. For good measure, they extend a hand, signing  _no_.

"Why?" you ask, because you do better when there's a tangible conflict to resolve, when there's some kind of  _action_  you can take. Your back twinges and you sit down, pretending that it's natural, not fueled by pain.

 _Up there,_  Frisk signs, still not looking up all the way. Their hair hangs in their eyes. Toriel's been meaning to give it a trim for a week now, but Frisk is good at dodging when they want to be, and you think they kind of like their hair the way it is, longer and jagged and messy, split ends and all.

 _Don't want to go up there,_  Frisk signs, fingers trembling. You sigh, folding your hands together and trying to ignore the rough scrape of your palms against themselves.

"I don't want to either," you admit. Your voice is harsh in your own ears, and you cringe before you can stop yourself. Asriel folds one arm around your shoulders without looking, tugging you against him, and you don't want to believe that it helps, but you know it does.

 _Why not?_  Frisk signs and you start laughing. You lean your head back, bellowing laughter, sunbursts beneath closed eyelids, until you realize you're not laughing at all, but weeping.

"You know why not," you finally manage to say, through sputters and tear-choked snuffles for breath. Frisk has uncurled, their hand resting on your knee, and the weight of it is comforting. Their eyes are puffy and red-rimmed, but the tears have stopped.

Frisk nods.

* * *

 

It's different, not being a flower anymore. You don't really remember it now. The memories have been overwritten with your parents and seeing Sans and Papyrus and Alphys and Frisk and Chara. Especially Chara. It's the best ending you could ever hope for because you don't think you could have stood it if somehow you had been brought back and Chara was still dead. Frisk is lovely, but they aren't your best friend of old, and you don't want to ever pretend they are. They are a new friend, they are not a replacement.

You know it hurts them sometimes to see you curled up with Chara, to see Chara rubbing your ears or your paws, to see you whisper secrets between the two of you, or find your old camcorder. You don't know how to tell them that it will be okay, that you can forge new memories with them even as you revisit the old ones with Chara. You just want to help everyone, and it's hard to remember that sometimes, things can't be fixed.

Like now, you think, staring down at Frisk's bowed head. They've stopped crying and Chara's stopped crying now, too. Your own eyes are suspiciously wet, but you don't want to let anyone else see. They would understand, but you're not a crybaby. You stopped being that long ago. 

"You can stay with us," you volunteer, and two pairs of eyes meet yours. "I mean- Mom and I-" you fumble for words. "I don't want to go either," you blurt out, and you don't know why you said it, but you know it's true. 

"You're crying, Asriel," Chara whispers, and you shake your head, but you can feel the dampness on your furry cheeks.

Chara hugs you, almost as hard as when you first became yourself again, and Frisk follows a moment later. It feels right when they both hug you, but you can't stop crying because you can't stop remembering, the only humans you trust are the ones currently clinging to you, and what if it all goes wrong again? Precautions can fail. You don't know what you would do if something happened- 

"It's okay," Chara mumbles over and over in your ear, and Frisk squeezes your hand reassuringly, having nearly crawled into your lap in order to avoid being displaced by Chara. 

"Sorry," you say, what feels like an eternity later. Your nose is stuffy and your eyes burn but you feel- safe somehow, with Frisk and Chara curled around you, anchoring you.

"Shut up," Chara tells you, and you know it's meant affectionately. "Let's run away and live in Sans' trash tornado."

"That- sounds like a bad time," Frisk says with a snort. You laugh a little.

* * *

 

The crunch of footsteps echoes behind you and you look over Asriel's shoulder, heart dropping into your stomach to see Toriel there. She doesn't look upset or angry, but you know that the ravages of your latest crying storm still echo on your face- not to mention Chara's and Asriel's.

"What is wrong, my children?" she asks and you don't know what to say. All your words have deserted you again and your throat has locked up. You don't want to go back. You like it down here. It's the only place you've ever felt safe.

"Nothing," Chara blurts out, loud, angry. Their breathing has sped up, though, and you can see the tremble in their shoulders, the spasm of their back. The comfortable sprawl has turned into tensed muscles and hitched gasps.

"There is something," Toriel contradicts softly. You look down at the ground, at the flowers that surround you. How can you say anything? She's already done so much for you. She's been the mother you never had. She's hugged you and washed your old bandage and gotten you new ones to carry in your pocket. She's made up a bed for you, right next to Chara's and Asriel's, taught you how to knit, and even started teaching you how to bake. All the things that you never knew could exist in the world for someone like you, and you still want more. How selfish can you get? you think, and a traitorous sniffle slips out.

Toriel crouches down in front of you, eyes more worried than you've seen them in a long while.

"What is it?" she asks gently, and you can tell that she cares, really  _cares_  about the answer.

"We don't want to go," Asriel answers for you in an ashamed mumble. His arm tightens around your back, and you lean into him, into that comforting, soft warmth as Chara does the same.

"But why not?" Toriel questions and it spills out in a torrent of signs, because you can't speak, and you know you're signing too fast for her to catch everything (maybe anything), but she doesn't interrupt you or stop you, she just watches your hands, and you don't know why you're telling her that you've got nothing up there, that there is no one, but you can't stop, not when Chara and Asriel are right there, too, and you feel  _complete_  with them there, and you feel like there's a chance for you to be whole, but only if you don't mess it all up.

"Frisk, I would never, ever leave you," Toriel tells you. "I would never leave you or Chara or Asriel." She bestows an extra fond look on her son. It doesn't hurt, because you can see how much she loves you, too, in her eyes. "We'll figure something out. For all of you. You will never be left behind."

She offers the hug then, still on bent knees, and as one, you all hurtle yourself into her arms, nearly knocking her flat on her back. She laughs, but it's gentle and there's no meanness in it.

Maybe, you think, breathing in the scent of the flowers and feeling contentment steal through you like a cat's purr, maybe it's not the place that makes you feel so at home.

Maybe it's who you're with.


End file.
